At the Super Target in Muldro, Mel leaned into a rack of raspberry-colored sweaters and inhaled. She’d already changed into the jeans and one of the tops from the thrift store, and she was grateful for them, but there was nothing like the smell and feel of new clothes.

Someday, she’d have spending money again. Someday, she could drive past the dealership without feeling a thing too. She wished it wasn’t so close to Target.

“Here, see if these fit.” Tish handed her a couple of T-shirts on hangers and a pair of folded jeans.

Mel shook her head. “We already found jeans at the thrift—”

“A girl can never have too many jeans, and they’re on clearance. And you need to pick out pajamas and socks and underwear.”

“Um, when you say underwear, do you mean a bra too?”

“I mean bras, plural. Get a couple.”

“But you already spent thirty bucks on me at the thrift store. It’s too much.”

“No,” Tish said gently. “No, it’s not.”

To hide her tears, Mel pretended to examine the tags on the T-shirts. From the corner of her eye, she saw Tish checking the tiny notebook that held her shopping list.

Tish pointed her cart toward the grocery section. “Grab a cart and pick up whatever toiletries you need too,” she called, walking away. “We can meet somewhere around the checkouts.”

“Okay,” Mel managed.

She felt like such a jerk. She’d thought Tish asked her to come along because she didn’t trust her alone in the house, but it was really all about the shopping. With Tish’s money. She was like a fairy godmother.

Mel latched the dressing-room door behind her and pulled off her thrift-store shoes. The floor was cold and gritty beneath her bare feet.

She could hardly wait to break into a bag of new white socks. And to have good jeans again. Jeans that fit. The thrift jeans fit okay, but they weren’t exactly in style, and the ones she’d borrowed from Tish were way too big.

But when she zipped up the brand-new jeans, they were baggy too. They gapped at the waist. Instead of hugging her thighs and hips, they fit like mom jeans.

She pulled them off, found the size label and turned it this way and that. Was it a 5? No, it was a 3. She was skinnier than she’d thought.

When she tried on the Ts, she forced herself to take a hard look in the mirror. Her ribs showed, like the ribs on the stray cat she’d tried to feed in Florida when she’d still had some money. Bra shopping wouldn’t be any fun at all. She’d probably only fill out an A-cup. Making a face, she changed back to her own clothes and left the dressing room.

It was a cinch to find pajamas, panties, and socks, but it took half an hour to find a bra that fit right and wasn’t too expensive. Then she pushed her cart through the health-and-beauty section, making herself stick to the basics. Shampoo, deo, toothpaste, a toothbrush, and a box of what her mom always called “feminine products” in the special, soft voice she saved for talking about subjects like that.

Mel stopped by the men’s toiletries and allowed herself a tiny sniff of Old Spice. She closed her eyes and pretended Grandpa John was right there beside her, about to crack a joke or pull a quarter from her ear.

“Stop it,” she whispered. She returned the container to the shelf and sneaked her hand up to wipe her eyes so quickly that nobody would notice. Then she maneuvered her cart through a traffic jam in the main aisle and hurried toward the checkouts.

Tish was browsing through a display of half-off calendars, her fully loaded cart beside her. The cold foods were piled on top—yogurts, ice cream, freezer waffles. Chocolate milk too. Mel’s mouth watered.

Tish looked up with a smile. “There you are. Find everything okay?”

“Mostly, but the jeans were baggy.”

Tish’s smile faded. “Size 3 is baggy?”

Mel tried not to roll her eyes. “I’m not anorexic. I just haven’t been eating right.”

“I don’t think you’ve been eating at all.” Tish glanced down at the food piled high in her cart. “We’ll put an end to that. Come on, let’s find a short line.”

Tagging along with her own cart, Mel decided she’d better not ask Tish to buy cigarettes. She seemed like the clean-living type who wouldn’t want to. Besides, she’d already been way too generous.

As Mel helped pile the groceries on the conveyer, she gave herself a lecture. She would not sneak the trail mix in the middle of the night. She would not drink all the chocolate milk. She would not hoard the fresh fruit in her room—not much of it, anyway.

Tish pushed her empty cart out of the way and pulled Mel’s forward.

“It’s too much,” Mel said. “I’ll put some things back.”

“Don’t be silly. You’ve only picked up a few basics. Are you sure you have everything you need?”

Mel nodded. She wanted to say a big, loud “Thank you,” but she knew she’d start crying. So she only nodded and emptied her cart.

Needing a distraction from the bank of cigarette cartons behind the register, Mel checked out the magazines. Her mom thought she was too high class to read the gossip rags, so she only bought the women’s magazines that were full of recipes and health stuff and decorating ideas. The same old same old, every time. Mel picked up People instead. She hadn’t seen one in so long that she didn’t recognize half the celebrities in the photos.

“That’ll be two-ten thirty-six,” the checker said in a sweet, high-pitched voice. Like baby talk.

Mel froze—partly because she couldn’t believe the total came to over two hundred bucks, and partly because she’d known that cutesy-baby voice since first grade.

Turning slowly, she held the magazine in front of her face and took a peek. Yep. The checker was Amanda La-Di-Da Proudfit. Maybe she’d flunked out of that fancy college, or maybe her folks ran out of money, but she was back. Even in a Target shirt, she looked like a model. Shiny hair, clear skin, perfect makeup. She wore gold hoop earrings and a sweet little gold heart on a gold chain.

Mel had never felt so ugly, wearing thrift clothes and very uncool shoes and no jewelry. Her lips were chapped. Her hair was full of split ends, and it probably smelled like the cigarette she’d smoked on the porch in the middle of the night. Well, she’d only be uglier if she acted like Amanda.

Returning the magazine to the rack, Mel worked up a friendly smile. “Hey, Amanda.”

Amanda glanced her way. “Hey,” she said in her baby voice.

Mel had never known anybody who could make one little word sound so snotty. It still hurt too, like it always had. Like she meant I don’t care how much money your dad has, you’re still a loser.

Mel wanted to smack her. Or at least cuss her out. Gripping the handle of her cart, she strung a few nasty words together in her mind.

Tish looked over her shoulder, frowning at her. A silent signal: You okay?

Mel let her breath out. Nodded.

Holding Tish’s credit card in perfectly manicured fingers, Amanda stared at it. She looked up at Tish, then down again, moving her lips as if she were sounding out the name. Mel groaned a little on the inside. Amanda knew the old McComb stories too.

Tish smiled. “Is there a problem with the card? Is it expired or something?”

“No …”

“Oh, good. I’d hate to hold up the people behind us.”

Amanda swiped the card and handed it back, giving Tish another long stare. It didn’t wilt Tish’s friendly expression as she waited for her receipt.

Amanda handed it to her. “Have a nice day.”

“You too,” Tish said, pushing her cart toward the exit.

Amanda had already turned toward her next customer. Tired of feeling invisible, Mel made sure Tish was out of earshot, then got right in Amanda’s face.

“Okay, Sweetsie-Pie Proudfit. You don’t like Tish because she’s a McComb, and you don’t like me because I’m me, and you don’t have to, but don’t ignore me. Got it?”

Amanda’s eyes nearly bugged out. “Got it.”

“Good.” Mel smiled politely, like Tish. “Bye, then. It was nice to see you.” She walked through the automatic doors, holding her head high. Like Tish.

Maybe George was right, Tish thought. She was hypersensitive. Imagining things. The name on the credit card hadn’t really flummoxed the checker at Target.

Tish rolled her shoulders to rid them of tension. The ride back to Noble would be relaxing if she would take time to enjoy the rolling landscape and the piney woods. Northern Alabama in winter was almost as green as Michigan in the spring. The morning chill still hadn’t burned off, though.

She glanced over at Mel, dressed more appropriately for the weather now. Before they’d pulled out of the Target lot, she’d put on a pair of her new socks. She’d practically cooed over them.

Now she’d opened the bag of trail mix. One handful after another, she sorted it out in her palm, eating it in the same order every time. Nuts first, then raisins, then sunflower seeds, and finally the M&M’s, saving the red ones for last. It would have been funny except she was so reverent, as if she were performing a religious ritual.

At the checkout, Mel had been like a little girl at Christmas, her eyes shining but timid. Afraid to believe all those special presents were really hers. But really, it was nothing special. Just toothpaste and socks and cheap clothes. The look she’d given the employee at the register, though … that was decidedly not like a sweet little girl.

“The checker at Target was somebody you went to school with?” Tish asked.

“Yeah. Nobody important.”

“Everybody’s important to somebody.”

“Especially if you’re Amanda La-Di-Da Proudfit,” Mel said in a perfect imitation of the girl’s prissy, infantile voice. “She’s so special. She’s a cheerleader and an honor student and a teacher’s pet.”

“Sounds like you two have some history, and it’s not especially pleasant.”

“It’s nothing personal.” Mel sounded like herself again. “She was one of the people who decided who got to be popular and who didn’t, starting in first grade. And I didn’t.”

“I didn’t either.”

“You know what I’m talking about, then.” Mel reached for the bag of trail mix again.

“Take it easy, there. Don’t make yourself sick.”

“Sorry.” Mel closed the bag in a hurry.

“No, I didn’t tell you to stop. Just slow down a little.”

Mel shook her head and dropped the package into the shopping bag where she’d found it. “I’d better save some for you.”

“I don’t really like trail mix myself, but I thought you could use the extra calories.”

“You bought it for me? To fatten me up? Wow, thanks. Thanks for everything. The clothes, the shampoo and stuff. You’re too nice.”

“I can’t spend this much money every week, but I think we both needed a jump-start on groceries and essentials.”

Tish frowned, hoping she had a job waiting. She’d check in with Farris soon, to make sure he’d received her letter and résumé. He didn’t seem like the type to believe wild stories about a woman’s ancestors. Or even if he believed them, surely he wouldn’t hold them against her.

Mel straightened and pointed ahead. “Hey, see that street sign up there? Rock Glen Drive? Can you turn off there?”

Tish took her foot off the gas. “What for?”

“That’s where my folks live. I just … I just want to drive by.”

“Sure, we can do that.” Tish signaled for the turn. “Is this the house where you grew up?”

“Yeah. My brother grew up in a little house closer to town, but they built this one later when they had more money.”

“That’s amazing. A family that lived in only two different houses, all those years. When I was a kid, we moved so many times I can’t keep it all straight in my head.”

“How come?”

“Nothing too terrible. It’s just that my dad was always chasing the American dream. He never quite caught it.”

Mel let out a quiet snort. “My dad thinks he caught it, but I think it caught him.”

She’d forgotten to say ex-dad, for once.

Making the turn, Tish was already impressed. The homes were spaced far apart and set a substantial distance from the road. Long driveways curved between pines, hardwoods, and carefully planned landscaping. Some of the driveways were gated, but the gates stood open as if to say the residents were prepared to be friendly or defensive, as necessary. These weren’t cookie-cutter homes. They displayed individuality, good taste, and prosperity. Maybe the homeowners made a living in the hustle and bustle of Muldro but preferred to do their living in the more rural atmosphere on the outskirts of Noble.

It didn’t seem like Mel’s kind of neighborhood. Pondering that, Tish cast a sidelong glance at her passenger.

“It’ll be awesome to drive by in a car they won’t recognize,” Mel said with a grin. “Totally awesome.”

That was it. Twenty years old, she had the vocabulary of a twelve-year-old. She didn’t sound well-read. That was true of a lot of young adults, though, and she’d already admitted she wasn’t much of a reader.

Tish slowed for a speed bump. “I hate speed bumps.”

“Me too, but my dad hates ’em worse. Ex-dad, I mean. He got into a big argument with one of the neighbors. He’s this old banker dude who runs every morning when it’s still dark out. I guess he nearly got run over a couple of times, so he started a petition to add the speed bumps.”

Tish’s mind spun in circles. A banker with an athletic build … “Do you know the banker’s name?”

“Yeah. Farris. He’s nice, but he and my ex-dad can’t stand each other.”

“Please stop calling him your ex-dad. It’s disrespectful.”

“Yeah, because I don’t respect him.”

Tish shook her head, wondering what kind of man he was. If a personable businessman like Farris didn’t like him, maybe the man simply wasn’t likable.

Mel pointed again. “It’s up there on the right. The last house before the side street. Slow down a little so we can get a better look.”

“What are we looking for, exactly?”

“I wonder what they’re up to. That’s all.”

Tish checked her mirror. Nobody was behind her, so she slowed to a crawl.

It was a sprawling, one-story brick home with a large porch. Four white rocking chairs sat there, two on each side of the door. A wooden privacy fence enclosed the backyard. The house had a two-car attached garage and a separate two-car garage off to the side.

“Nice setup,” Tish said. “A man can never have too much garage space.”

“He added the second garage when I was about ten. To make room for his toys. His boat, his Jet Skis, stuff like that.”

“Beautiful landscaping,” Tish said, turning onto the side street. “I wish I could see the backyard too, but that’s a pretty effective privacy fence.”

“Yeah, they’re really good at keeping people out. See the tree that hangs over the fence? That’s how I always used to sneak in if I was locked out.”

“Were they in the habit of locking you out?”

“It got to be that way.” Mel leaned toward her window. “I didn’t learn much in high school, but there’s one poem I remember. Our teacher read part of it out loud, and we were supposed to read the rest ourselves, but I never did. I guess it’s about an old hired hand who comes back—”

“Robert Frost?”

“Yeah, that’s him. The dude who wrote it, I mean. There’s this line that goes, ‘Home is the place where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in,’ but for me it’s more like ‘Home is the place where, if they won’t take you in, you know it’s not home anymore.’ ”

“Aw, Mel, I wish I could help you get past feeling that way. I’d love to see you reconnect with your folks. I think it’ll work out if you’ll just give it another chance.”

“I’m not the one who won’t give it another chance,” Mel said.

Tish wanted to pin her down, but it didn’t seem like the right time.

“When I was a little, I had a Shetland pony in the field behind the house,” Mel said, pointing. “His name was Buddy.”

Tish smiled at the evidence that Mel’s parents had given her something that most little girls could only dream of. “That must have been fun.” She proceeded to a home farther down the road and made a careful T-turn at the driveway. “You said your dad sells cars for a living?”

“Yeah, he owns a dealership in Muldro. Makes big bucks.” Mel made a face.

As Tish drove down Rock Glen toward the main road, a big silver SUV came from the other direction. Mel whipped around to follow it out of sight.

“Aw, geez, that was my brother. He’s pulling into the driveway. They kicked me out, but they’re letting him stay while he’s getting his house remodeled. That’s so unfair.”

“Patience,” Tish said. “Things might still turn around.”

Mel only shook her head. She was silent all the way home. She helped unload the car, but then she shut herself in the guest room.

Tish left her alone and unpacked groceries, praying for Mel the whole time.